Little Talks


Another yet unknown place,

March 2008.

Razor and Relash are away somewhere trying to get into the silk panties of our new sultry, double-swinging member; Desire. I am in the basement of the Hermit hanging out with Uchariel. Weird right? Well, I was alone trying to catch up on my beloved “Happy Endings”, when my phone rang out with an ear-splitting “Hallelujah Chorus” and I saw ‘Uchariel’ flashing across it’s screen in gold scroll script. I do not have Uchariel’s phone number (I didn’t even know he had a phone), I do not have the “Hallelujah Chorus” on my phone, which is incapable of displaying gold script by the way. After I had paused and stuck Elisha Cuthbert with a derp face on the laptop screen, I pressed the green button.


“Titaenium,  my old friend and super empath. How is that old bus of yours, now that it’s empty and you’re alone?”

Uchariel is vaguely omniscient so I’m not surprised he knows this. I am surprised though, by his unbelievably chipper tone. The Uchariel I know  sounds like a very rich drunk.

“You sound weird. Is everything all right?. I’m not lonely by the way, “Happy Endings” happens to be a very very rich te-“.

He cuts me off.

“How about you come over to le Hermit for a drink. I have some really colorful gin based cocktails for your consumption while I tell you about the real reason you and your friends are in this particular supernatural  snafu”

I drive to the Hermit so fast, I’m sure I leave the color of our bus behind.

I elbow my way through the supernatural crowd that are the regulars here. Dark blue ghosts trailing fluorescent mucor, angels with weird tattoos and brightly colored wings looking like the rebelling Celestials they are, glowing eyes hide in the darkest corners where a belch would be followed by a burst of fire. I quickly shuffle up to the bar where a woman with mile-long prehensile blond hair is rapidly mixing drinks, cleaning glasses and taking money, using her locks as multitasking workman snakes. She notices me and recognition lights in her eyes even though I have never seen her before.

“Hi. Mr. Titaenium?”


“He’s in the basement.”

I walk around the bar to stand by her side, expertly dodging  the swirling mass of hair. I hear a creak as the stairs to the basement fall open beneath the bar. I duck into a crouch and descend in. The trap door closes and the rough murmur of the Hermit’s crowd is instantly gone.

The softest classical music is playing as I descend the grandest stairs I’ve ever seen in my life into a marble hall that is even grander. It’s tall and wide, covered in giant murals that would make Michelangelo green with envy. On closer inspection I realize that all the art is one big piece; the ceiling is Heaven where a being of light is surrounded by seraphs. The four walls depict the Fall, and it looks a lot tamer than the real deal; the nude angels have the softest of bodies and look like they are dancing in the powder blue sky. The floor is the whitest marble shot through with gold veins, at its center is Uchariel sitting and polishing something in naught but a white toga. His wings are out. Something is very wrong.

“Nice wings. Whiter than I expected”

“Keep your snark to yourself Wallflower boy and sit.” Uchariel spits out icily. Well, now I know the phone voice was a ruse. There is no chair in sight so I join him on the floor, careful to stay at least ten feet away and bathed in a golden glow that comes from nowhere and is everywhere. I realize he is polishing a mithril vest of obviously weird metallic origin. It looks like silver from my vantage point. Silver that falls like thick liquid from his hands as he scrubs it with a fairly large feather. He speaks shocking me out of my observational lull.

“So you think the imp gave you your boons to become bounty hunters in a rock band?”

“Yes.  He was quite convincing and he promised us there was nothing more to it”

A sigh. “How tragically little minded of you, and to think your souls are currently swirling in Lilith’s cauldron as we speak, screaming for escape.”

“I don’t understand. I thought they were with Lucifer”

“No, they’re not. You are going to get them back of the day of Armageddon, where they shall take your presently weak abilities to the extreme. The three of you are going to lead Earth’s Army to war on that day.”

My eyebrows shoot up, as my eyes turn into discs of shock.

“I’m sorry. What?”

“You are going to fight against God at the End of the World. That was why you were ‘created’, so to speak. You really didn’t think feeling what other people felt was what you sold your Being for did you?”

I try to form words but my vocal cords are frozen. I imagine Razor, Relash and poor little Desire chasing each other in a disgusting slimy pool of infatuation. This news would be putting dampers on their libidos for a while. I lick my dry lips as Uchariel continues speaking.

“I could have chosen any three Celestials to do it but oh, no, “The humans must defend their right to survive themselves”. Bullshit. You are going to get us all killed.”

“I’m still processing stuff, but why are you slyly venting your anger on me?”

I can see bright candy red tentacles of rage just swirling around him. Empathy is stronger with angels, I try my best not to do it too often around them to avoid having my brain fried.

“I’m not venting. In fact I’ve been beating around the proverbial human bush, what I truly mean to say is that, I’m about to bump up Armageddon. I’m having a meeting with Gabriel in a few, hence the old armor”.  He holds up the silvery vest.

Another zing goes through my already turbulent brain.

“Bumping up Armageddon? How?”

“Putting a date on it, a close date. That means you and you friends should get ready, you might be getting your souls, along with some complications, back very soon”.

He rises to his feet and extends his wings. They’re huge and snow white with shadows of metallic grey at the tips. He rips off the toga and I suddenly find the gold on the floor interesting.


I look up.

What I thought was a vest is actually a full body suit of interlinked chains, now shimmering in that unknown light. Sato suddenly appears to his right with a flash of light, dressed like a Greek goddess complete with olive laurel on her blood red hair, holding an alabaster helmet. She places it on his head, smiling thinly.

“Stay civil and try not to wreck this place with your dislike for each other.” She whispers as she kisses his cheek and places a glass of gin in his hand. She leaves as she came. He looks into my eyes.

“Pray”. He says, his eyes an unearthly blue. I shiver involuntarily.

“What about my colored cocktails?” I ask. I could use some liquor right now.

“Talk to Zell. Don’t take more than four glasses, they’re particularly strong”.  He smiles looking like the old batty archangel I had come to like for a fleeting moment. Then he turns away to down his own gin, his wings fluttering in delight.

As I climb up the stairs to get served alcohol by a long-haired fairytale character, I feel the hairs on my arms rise, and I hear giant wings flap.

But I do not know if they are arriving or departing.


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